


left in shadows

by artemiswords



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Post-Season/Series 03, corrupted!catra, it's october let's get spooky, some s04e01 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-28 20:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemiswords/pseuds/artemiswords
Summary: Catra’s had enough of her cadet outfit that she’s worn for too many years. There are too many memories ingrained in it, like stains that you wash again and again but never truly fade away, too many things she has done and lived while wearing it, all things she wants to forget.She inspects the new look in the mirror; she looks more like a leader now. The single long sleeve also helps her in stopping with the senseless paranoia she’s been trying to not think about. She knows her arm is fine, even if she’s been having these… hallucinations, where she swears that from the corner of her eyes her arm is pitch black, until she looks at it and notices it’s normal. Covering it with a black sleeve means it is now indeed black, but because of her own choice. She’s in control.Lord Catra is what people call her now. She likes the sound of it.*She always had Adora, but now, at the highest point of the Fright Zone, Catra sits alone.





	left in shadows

**Author's Note:**

> s4 is way too soon!!! wanted to write something before it dropped and make it at least a little spooky for october, so here it is
> 
> if u like it let me know :-)

_[W]ith this bullet_

_lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because _

_it's all I have,_

_because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own._

**—** Richard Siken, "Wishbone"

Catra wakes up with a jump. Crumbling ground and white void melts into darkness and the familiar hardness of her standard Horde mattress. Her heart pounds loud and fast in her ears, her right side is numb, and she struggles to get out of bed to make her way to the bathroom, quick, short steps against the cold floor. She flexes her right hand. It feels weird, still a bit numb. She presses her claws against the palm of her hand, soft at first then hard, almost drawing blood. The pain seems to do something as she feels pins and needles over her arm. She was probably just sleeping in a weird position.

Getting to the bathroom, she flips the light switch. The light blinds her, then it flickers with a buzzing sound, going out then on again. She walks to the sink, opens the faucet and splashes water over her face. The cold wakes her up a bit, but her heart still beats angrily against her chest. She grips at the sides of the sink, claws scratching the surface, and focuses on the cold of it against her palms, on the water flowing, on her breathing. She closes her eyes, focuses on the noise of the water, thenー

_ BUZZ _

The light goes out. She opens her eyes and looks up at the mirror, but it’s too dark to see anything. The left side of her jaw feels tender, like there is an ugly bruise there that is taking too long to heal.

_ BUZZ _

She squints when the harsh light blinds her again, then examines her face. Her skin looks fine. 

She stares at herself. Gold and blue, tired, with dark circles under themー

_ BUZZ _

_ Stupid light, _Catra thinks. Someone should fix it, maybe she would ask Entrー she swallows the thought, closes her eyes, puts her hands under the waterー

_ BUZZ _

She opens her eyes. The water she was about to splash on herself is dirty and black. Shaking her hands off abruptly, she realizes her right arm is pitch black, leaking the blackness to the sink. Her heart sinks to her stomach as she looks up at the mirror to see gold and black and a jagged streak of light dividing her face, now half of it turned into void, and a sinister smile that’s notー 

_ BUZZ _

Darkness takes over again and Catra stays frozen, even though she feels an urge to run or to scream orー 

_ BUZZ _

She blinks and sees gold and blue, wide and scared and _ normal _ eyes. She feels her legs giving up and leans over the sink to not fall, her heart racing faster than ever before. 

She struggles to close the faucet with her trembly hands, forces a deep breath in, then pushes herself up and to the door. Before leaving she reaches for the light switch but stops when she sees it’s already off. She blinks and everything is dark again. 

She swallows hard and goes back to bed. 

It’s been a week. A week since Adora won once again, since Catra _ lost, _ once again. A week since Catra has been dreaming of a fantasy world where things were how they could have been, how they should have been. Dreaming of Adora not staying, leaving, leaving _ her _ again. Dreaming of something taking over and disintegrating her as she dragged herself out of that bottomless pit. Dreaming of almost dragging Adora with her, but then… eyes, so much anger in those eyes. Catra had never seen her eyes like that.

Adora is not the only thing that’s been haunting Catra. Some nights she also dreams of shadows. Shadows surrounding her, getting tighter and tighter, filling her nose, mouth, lungs, filling her with pain and rage and hopelessness. Because Adora is not the only one who left. Because Adora is not the only one who is a traitor. Because Adora has been and will always be more important to _ her _ than Catra could ever dream of being. 

In that moment in Shadow Weaver's cell, Catra really believed she could be… _ loved? _ No, she’s never allowed herself to believe that far, not aloud at least, but maybe be recognized? Appreciated? But it was a lie, of course it was a lie. Catra had been too stupid to believe otherwise. Now, every time she looks in the mirror, the pain, the humiliation, all comes back to her. All the things she wishes she could claw off herself for good.

Without much thought, she finds a hair clipper and examines the discolored part of her hair in front of the mirror. It’s always had a different texture. She has lost count of the number of nights she fell asleep with Adora playing with her hair tufts, what feels like a lifetime ago. Adora used to say it was one of her favorite things about her, because _ it looks spiky but it’s soft, just like Catra. _

She turns the clipper on and the buzzing sound sends a chill to her spine. She expects the light to flicker, but it doesn't.

She can’t be soft anymore. 

With a deep breath in and a few calculated movements, she shaves both sides off, then brushes her hair so it covers any missing spots. Her hair now looks more behaved, maybe. Controlled.

Eventually, she tries to talk to Hordak again. The Horde has the perfect opportunity to attack the Rebellion now that they are mourning the loss of their queen and are weakened _(thanks to Catra ー not like Hordak seems to care). _But he is still useless, too worried about his stupid vanity projects. If they don’t do something now, all of Catra’s work, all that she went through, all that she’s lost… will be for what? 

Hordak doesn’t seem to want to listen to her, per usual, but today Catra sees something she took way too long to notice. Finally, an opportunity.

It’s time for a change. 

It’s also time to let go. Catra’s had enough of her cadet outfit that she’s worn for too many years. There are too many memories ingrained in it, like stains that you wash again and again but never truly fade away, too many things she has done and lived while wearing it, all things she wants to forget.

She inspects the new look in the mirror; she looks more like a leader now. The single long sleeve also helps her in stopping with the senseless paranoia she’s been trying to not think about. She knows her arm is fine, even if she’s been having these… hallucinations_, _ where she swears that from the corner of her eyes her arm is pitch black, until she looks at it and notices it’s normal. Covering it with a black sleeve means it is now indeed black, but because of her own choice. She’s in control.

Getting into Hordak’s sanctum is easy. Ripping off his precious shiny rock of his armor and taking over the throne is even easier. _ Lord Catra _is what people call her now. She likes the sound of it.

She is on her way back to her room at night, walking through a long, empty corridor, when the ceiling lights flicker. It’s nothing unusual for the Fright Zone, but it makes the fur of her tail stand up. She quickens her steps, trying to not give it much thought. Everything is fine, she’s in control, the end of the corridor is almost there, her right arm doesn’t feel any weirder than normal, except maybe the sleeve is a bit tight suddenly, but it’s probably justー

All the lights go out.

Catra stops. It’s obviously too dark to see anything but she can’t hear anything either, nothing besides her quick heartbeat. The Fright Zone is _ never _ quiet. 

The lights come back.

Catra walks again. The end of the corridor is farther than she remembers. 

_ CRASH _

She startles and looks behind her. The other end of the corridor is in darkness, the first ceiling light now missing ー _ CRASH _ ー the second light explodes, leaving another section of the corridor in darkness, closer to her. 

_ CRASH _

She turns and runs.

_ CRASH _

Closer ー _ CRASH _ ー too close, she’s almost there, butー 

_ CRASH _

Darkness and glass fall over her as she crouches and covers her head with her armsー

“Lord Catra?”

Catra looks up. It’s bright now and there is someone right in front of her, at the end of the corridor. She gets up and looks behind her. Everything looks normal, no glass anywhere. She breathes in sharply and tries to stop herself from shaking as she stands up and turns to whoever is in front of her. 

“What do you want?” Catra says in a somewhat steady voice.

“Uhー” Kyle stutters, “I’m justー”

“Shouldn’t you be in your barracks by now?”

“Y-yes, lord Caー”

“Then _ move_.” She growls, making him flinch. He turns around and stumbles away quickly, disappearing around a corner. 

Catra walks to where she was heading, quick, away from the corridor. Her chest is tight and her arm burns with tiny cuts that aren’t really there.

As soon as she gets to her room she sits on the floor by her bed and removes her long sleeve. Her arm itches, but it looks normal. She's sweating but cold at the same time. She must have a fever, that'd explain the chills on her skin and… everything else. She must have a really bad fever that’s causing her to hallucinate, she just needs toー

"Catra?"

Her head snaps up to the door. Scorpia stands by it, claws close together in front of her. 

"You okay?" She asks with her familiar worried voice. She makes a movement as to move closer but stays put, so different from her usual rush to run by Catra's side when she just slightly suspects she may be hurt or unwell.

“What do you want?” Catra manages to say.

Scorpia’s expression shifts. Worry turns into something hard, unlike her usual soft features. She bites her lip, then says, “I’m going to look for Entrapta.”

Catra flinches as green strobing lights flash in front of her and Entrapta's scream echoes in the room, her claws extend involuntarily and she scratches the hard floor, hands looking for something to hold. Scorpia doesn't move, as if nothing just happened. 

Catra shivers, then breathes out.

“And why exactly would you even think of doing that?”

“Catra…” The crease in Scorpia’s forehead grows deeper. “I know you can’t have meantー”

“We already had this conversation, Scorpia.” 

Catra blinks and now she stands in front of Scorpia, right hand grasping her uniform, claws making small holes in its fabric, probably even marking her skin. Scorpia stands tall with searching, hard eyes burning through her. Catra tries to not look startled as she retracts her claws, then says, almost a whisper, “And it’s Lord Catra.” Her voice isn't as firm as she intended it to be.

Scorpia’s eyes remain fixed on her, Catra has to look away. “I was hoping we could do it together, but…” She sighs.

Catra remembers the Crimson Waste. What she thought was her death sentence turning into the first time she actually achieved respect, recognition, and she was happy, really, for a day she almost forgot… everything else. And Scorpia; there by her side, always, choosing her. Scorpia, always Scorpia. She remembers the Crimson Waste party, Scorpia asking her to stay, so they could rule there, together, and maybe be happy, just the two of them. It was everything Catra wanted ー in theory; to rule, be respected, appreciated, _ happy. _ But the sword _ (Adora’s) _ was heavy in her arms. A chance of happiness _ (without Adora) _ after everything? _ (To forget Adora?) _ Having to let her go, let her _ win _ again, after everything Catra went through, she couldn’t possibly justー

A firm claw cautiously wraps around Catra’s wrist, removing her hand from Scorpia. She's so much stronger than Catra, but she still chooses to be gentle. It fills Catra with anger.

“I’m going with or without you.”

Catra's hand fall to her side. Her chest is tight, tight, like there is an old wound there, still tender, being poked at. 

“So,” she swallows something and looks up at Scorpia again, “you’re betraying the Horde?” _ You're leavingー _

“You can call me a traitor too if that will make you feel better.” Scorpia's expression softens a little, but saddens. Her eyes redden as she takes a step back. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, _ Lord _ Catra.” She says, and takes another step back. 

She reaches for something on the wall outside the room. As the door closes, she brings the back of her claw to her eyes. The sound of her footsteps grows quieter until Catra can't hear anything else. 

Scorpia leaves. Catra stays. 

The wound bleeds again.

The Horde teaches you many things. Strategies for different battle scenarios and environments, basic survival skills, at least a hundred different ways of how to subdue the enemy, and so many other practical things. It also teaches you that you are alone. You’re supposed to progress alone, even when training with your designated group, your individual performance is what matters. You’re supposed to hide your weaknesses, always. If you’re injured, scared, sad, you hide your pain, fears and feelings, bottle it all up and keep going.

Nobody is going to help you. Nobody is supposed to.

Catra has always defied the odds; growing up she was hardly alone. She always had a hand to hold while wandering through the creepy Fright Zone corridors. Always had someone that noticed when she was missing and would save an extra ration bar for her. Always had someone to soothe her nightmares away while the other cadets weren’t as lucky. 

She always had Adora. 

A presence as constant as the bitter taste of the ration bars. The nightly comforting warmth that opposed the daily freezing cold of the showers. The caring, gentle touches that contrasted the hard edges of the training staffs. The only hand that reached to care and not to harm, to pull closer and not to push away. The only source of water in an endless and lifeless desert, but maybe it had just been a mirage.

Catra still defies the odds; the shadow of a golden force captain turned second-in-command, an insolent child turned Horde lord. Right now, though, at the highest point of the Fright Zone, hanging over the edge of an old and rusty platform, on top of a flimsy metal bar, Catra sits alone.

It’s always been her safe place. Only one person knew how to get up there, then another one eventually learned too, but both of them are gone now. Catra is alone.

From there, the constant cacophony of the Fright Zone is barely audible. The only sound she hears is the squeaking of the metal platform. She sits at the top, she _ is _ at the top; it’s everything she ever wanted, everything she worked for. Soon Catra will lead more attacks against the stupid Rebellion, weakening them even more and eventually crushing them for good. Soon the whole planet will be in Catra’s hands, right between her claws, ready to be presented to Horde Prime when he finally decides to show up. 

But then whyー

_ (“Is that what you truly want?” A voice rings in her head) _

Why does it still not feel like enough? 

Something wet drips off Catra’s right hand. She looks down and sees that her fingers, sticking out from her fingerless sleeve, are black. Panic rushes over her body and she loses balance. She’s falling, falling, the wind burning her eyes and making it impossible to breath, to even scream, the mess of buildings and pipes and boxes on the ground growing bigger and bigger until Catra blinks and loses her balance. She turns quickly in the air and reaches for the platform she was just sitting on, normal fingers gripping tightly on the edge. She reaches with the other arm and pulls herself up, rolling on the ground of the platform and lying there until her heart slows down. 

Maybe that void from the portal did disintegrate her entirely after all, and left only a shell, with some of that same void inside of her, a void that maybe could never be filled. When she first woke up in the portal world, everything was perfect. There was no sword, Adora never left ー until she did, because it was Catra’s perfect world, never Adora’s. But maybe it was never Catra's either, and she's still stuck there, somehow.

_She is so tired. _

She closes her eyes.

Catra wakes up with a nudge at her side. Hazy from sleep she starts when she realizes she's not on the platform, but on the foot of someone else's bed. She sits up and sees a blonde head under the covers of what should've been Adora's force captain room. Catra knows this is not real, unlike last time when it took her way too long to realize that this is not her reality. How could this be happening again? 

Catra slowly reaches out and touches Adora's leg. It feels real and solid. Maybe she indeed never left the portal? 

Adora breathes out heavily and shifts a bit, but remains asleep. Catra doesn't dare to wake her up, she knows how that played out last time. Carefully, so carefully, she gets under the blanket next to her. She does as she once did unthinkably, but now slowly, afraid a wrong movement will shatter everything away. She doesn't know how much time she has, or how long before Adora wakes up, but she moves closer to her back, rests her right hand on her waist, so careful, so afraid it might awake her, but it doesn't. It fits perfectly as it always did. This close, she breathes her in and fights the urge to draw her closer, to find her hand and intertwine their fingers, their legs, to wake her up with a kiss to the side of her face like she did so many times, to think of whispering so many things but instead end up just saying _ hey, Adora, _to do anything at all but just remain still.

Soon Adora will wake up and everything will end like it did the other time, Catra knows that in her bones. But first Adora will turn to her, with her messy hair all over her face, and whisper good morning. She will look at her with those deep blue eyes, still puffy and sleepy, but shiny, always full of something. Then she'll reach for Catra's head and scratch it, lazily, because she loves to hear her purr in the mornings while Catra is still half asleep. And, finally, before saying they will be late if they don’t get up already, she'll lean in for a kiss, and Catra will meet her halfway. A soft, lazy kiss, that will end too soon as they always did, but that’ll fill Catra with something, something good; hope, maybe (false hope, she now knows), that one day they won’t have to get out of bed so soon, that they won’t have to suffer everyday, that they’ll feel and be safe, one day, together. 

No, that won’t happen with this kiss. Because Catra knows Adora won't stay, again, just like she knows she won't go with Adora, again. After the kiss, everything will start falling apart again. So maybe the smart thing to do would be to just make it end faster this time, instead of trying to prolong it, but Catra is selfish, greedy, she did pull the lever after all, didn’t she? The world needs Adora, but right at this moment she won’t let it have it, and she won’t let it have it for as long as she can. It will hurt all over again, she knows that, but she’s so used to the pain it might hurt if it’s not there.

Adora hums and moves. Catra realizes her claws are digging into her waist and retracts them. It’s too late, because she moves again and whimpers. Is she having a nightmare? 

“Adora?” Catra tries, softly, “It’s okay, it was justー”

Adora turns abruptly to her, her eyes widen and she screams as she tries to sit up and get away from Catra.

“Hey!” Catra reaches for her before she falls off the bed. “It’s just me, Adoraー”

Adora shoves her hard and now Catra is the one who almost falls. 

“Don’t touch me!” She shouts, terrified, and scrambles off the bed. 

_ No, no, no, no, it’s too soon for her to remember, it’sー _

“_Youー_ what did you do!?” Adora asks, terror quickly turning into anger, and marches towards her.

Behind her, Catra catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall, half of her body a void, white jagged light dividing it. Adora grabs her by the collar and before her fist reaches her face the light goes out.

Catra wakes up on the cold floor of her room. Her head pounds, her nose hurts as if it’s broken, her right arm burns, burns, her entire right side is on fire. She tries to get up, make sense of where she is, remember how she got there, but it’s all blank, and everything hurts, and she feels heavy and weird and _ wrong. _

There is no one to call for, no one that’ll reach for her anymore. She’s alone, everything burns and she’s alone.

Maybe the void inside of her will never be full, but she is hungry.

She pushes through the pain, like she has always done, like she will always do, and slowly pushes herself up.

Maybe she's the void now.

The light flickers.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated!
> 
> come scream at me on twitter/tumblr @artemisbye
> 
> (also, [shameless plug of my own art that [was] inspired [by] this](https://twitter.com/artemisbye/status/1182134870639812609))


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